


Guide me through the squall

by Strudelmugel



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Brothers, Family, Fishing, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alin spent his days in the local market as a street performer, looking after his brother and hiding a massive secret from the world. He's happy, but lonely.<br/>When he crosses paths with Tsvetan, a smelly, grumpy fisherman, who's just as alone as he is, he begins to see hope and love in his future, but nature is unpredictable, and tends to take the things he cares about away from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide me through the squall

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a fic exchange on ff.net; posting here too because I like it.
> 
> Alin- Romania  
> Andrei- Moldova  
> Tsvetan- Bulgaria

“Thank you! Thank you all! I’m glad you enjoyed the show!” Alin waved and bowed in an overly animated fashion as people tossed spare change and the occasional note into a large empty suitcase opened out on a blanket in front of him. Nearby, his little brother, Andrei, sat on a wooden market stall, munching on a hot portion of chips in newspaper whilst talking to the stall owner, swinging his legs as he did so.

Around them, people milled about in the busy street, ambling from stall to stall poking around at whatever was being sold there before either buying something or moving along. The traders themselves shouted to be heard over the din, promoting their wares with just the slightest hint of aggression and desperation; nobody liked going home with some of their stock left over. It was packed, half the town crowded into one cluttered lane, carts and heavy shoes thundering across cobblestones as the sun blared down from above. This was where he spent most of his days, and where he made his living.

Alin chuckled at his kid brother; eight year old Andrei had worked hard all day so deserved a nice break and bite to eat. On the days he didn’t go to school, the child would accompany him into town, being his assistant when Alin needed one for his magic. This way, Andrei didn’t spend the whole day locked away at home by himself, and Alin had someone to help him perform tricks that required two people. He could always ask for audience volunteers, but preferred working with someone who knew what was happening. He also trusted his brother a lot more than the local and tourist children to lie still and not fidget when he jumped over them on a pogo stick before landing on a pile of cards, the ‘right’ card getting stuck to the bottom of the pogo stick. That one was currently his favourite trick.

That was how he kept a roof over their heads: fooling people with cards and rope and flowers. Luckily for him, people liked being deceived. They liked being told there was still magic and mystery in the world. During his evenings at home, he practised each little trick and routine until he could barely stand, constantly looking for new ways to entertain his crowd. Because as long as they were amazed and duped by it all, the money would keep on coming in a slow, steady trickle.

In all honesty, it was not the most paying profession in the world, but he was doing something he loved and would not trade it for anything. Andrei loved it too, though it was not what the kid wanted to do in life. He planned to work hard and become something big; he didn’t know what yet, but he was determined to not lead the same life as his brother. Alin respected that. He wanted more for his brother too, and had already vowed to stand behind Andrei, whatever the boy decided to do with his life.

“Okay child,” he called once Andrei had finished eating, “it’s time to go.” The crowd had dispersed from around the suitcase and Alin collected up the money, stuffing it into a secret compartment on the inside of his tiny hat and clipping it onto his head. He added a few coins to his pocket, in case he saw something he liked, and packed cards, boxes, and the rest of his magical equipment into the empty suitcase, handing the pogo stick to Andrei.

“Hey thanks for today little bro,” he began.

“Huh? It’s fine.”

“How about you head home and get dinner started. I’m going to do some shopping for the week.”

Andrei nodded, tucking the bulky sports equipment under his arm and darting off into the crowd to catch the bus. Alin chuckled, beginning to move from stall to stall.

 

…

 

“Good haul,” Alin muttered to himself, glancing down at the bag of bread, vegetables and tinned meats that he was carrying. That should keep them fed for a week, if they were careful. Not for the first time, Alin found himself praying that Andrei made something of himself, so the boy wouldn’t have to spend his adult life counting pennies to see if he had enough for even the most basic of foods.

Pushing money troubles aside, Alin walked up to the bus stop, sitting next to the only other person waiting there and waving hello. The other nodded back, barely acknowledging him and Alin sighed. He tried to remember the last conversation he’d had with someone his own age, but failed, deciding not to count the desperate cries for attention he did before performing each routine. Since he’d left school, he’d been working hard to provide for his brother, especially since their parents died five years ago.

He glanced over at the man waiting for the bus with him, and found he was a few years older than Alin himself, and not at all bad looking. He clearly spent a large part of his time outside, judging by the tanned face and rough hands poking out of an oversized knitted jumper. In this heat? Was the man not affected by it? His dark hair was messy, parted in the middle and covered by a woollen hat whilst his jaw was dotted with stubble. The man’s nose was crooked and thick black eyebrows knotted together as his sharp green eyes caught Alin staring at him.

“Can I help you?” he asked gruffly.

Alin grinned, licking his lips, “sure, are you up for a little bet?” He wondered if this was how normal people started conversations, then found he didn’t care. Why concern himself with the business of being normal?

“I don’t see why not,” the other man shrugged. For all his looks, the smell of salt and fish that clung to him almost put Alin off any attempts of conversation. Almost. A good bath would soon sort him out, even if Alin had to give him one himself. He killed that train of thought before it crashed into the gutter, and continued the conversation.

“I wager you one gold coin,” Alin grinned, pointing to a brass band playing on a little wooden stage in the corner of the square; “that those lot will finish the song they’re on before the bus arrives.”

“Are you sure?” the dark haired man raised an eyebrow, “there’s another five minutes of that particular song left.”

“I know what I’m about,” Alin sniffed; he knew the whole timetable by now, thanks to having to commute to the same place for years. On Sundays the bus was usually a few minutes behind schedule since there were more people walking around on the road on their day off, but the stranger wouldn’t know that. “So do we have a deal?”

“Fine,” the stranger shook Alin’s hand, then turned away, closing his eyes.

Alin guessed he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, so settled for looking around at the square. Cars and trucks struggled to get through the swarm of people returning home from the market, the park or the beach, whilst bikes almost effortlessly weaved between them. Across the square, there was a tiny lane that led to the market, still crowded despite there not being much left to buy this late in the day. The sun glared down on them all, burning Alin’s cheeks and causing him to squint. Seriously, how was the man next to him managing?

“What’s with the jumper and hat?” he finally asked, ready to burst with the need to know, “aren’t you frying in there?”

“No, I don’t mind it much,” the stranger shrugged, “besides, it gets cold at night when you’re at sea.”

“You’re a sailor?” Alin’s eyebrows shot up.

“A fisherman, actually.”

“My parents were fishers,” Alin sat back, sighing, “they died in a storm.”

“That tends to happen. I’m sorry to hear it though.”

“So you should be,” Alin looked at him curiously, “don’t you ever get worried by the risk of it all? I mean, you’re far too handsome to just drown.”

The stranger blinked in shock, inching away from Alin and avoiding his gaze. He opened his mouth several times to start a sentence, but nothing came out. Finally, he looked up and gasped out, ‘erm, I think the band’s finished their song. See, they’re packing up. I guess you win…”

“I told you,” Alin grinned smugly, choosing to ignore the other’s embarrassment, “now pay up.”

The stranger scowled, stuffing a coin into his outstretched hand and Alin couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty; fishermen didn’t earn that much either. Still, the stranger probably earned more than Alin did, and he couldn’t give into silly weak feelings. He’d stomped those out when he was orphaned.

“Hey,” he began, turning the coin over in his palm, “the sweet stall doesn’t close for a while yet; if I got a bag for us to share, would you eat?”

“Erm, sure, why not?” the stranger looked taken aback, before giving a small smile, “sounds like a nice treat.”

“Great! But we have to leave some for my little brother too. He’s mad about sweets.”

“Noted.”

Alin nodded and left, darting across the square to buy said bag of sweets before the bus came, which would be any minute now. When he reached the stall, he let out a small growl at the sight of the substantial queue; at this rate, he’d miss the bus. He considered just leaving, but didn’t want to disappoint his new acquaintance. Waiting impatiently, he was eventually served and ran into the square in time to see the bus disappear around the corner, leaving the stop empty.

“That bastard,” he hissed, running across the square, shoving past other townspeople and letting out a string of curses. He skidded to a halt next to the bus stop and sighed; the other man hadn’t even waited for him.

“That bastard,” he muttered again.

 

…

 

Alin finally caught sight of his little house, almost crying out in relief. What was usually a simple twenty-minute bus ride had turned into an hour long trek through winding, hilly streets carrying his heavy shopping bag and suitcase. Now all he wanted to do was collapse on the sofa and be served dinner by his little brother. Hopefully Andrei had been able to knock something together with whatever was let in the cupboards. Knowing how creative the kid got with cooking, Alin wouldn’t be surprised if he found himself tucking into kidney beans covered in honey with an apple for dessert. Then again, he was so hungry and tired that he’d probably eat it without question.

He popped another sweet into his mouth, deciding there was about half left in the bag- Andrei’s half- and pocketing it. He knew the kid would be ecstatic; sweets were one of his most favourite things in the world, after his older brother.

Turning around to glance at the magnificent view, Alin lingered by his front gate for a few moments more. The town they lived in was on the coast, and on a slope that allowed almost every house a view of the sapphire blue sea, calm and flat, dotted with small fishing boats. It nestled in a bay, buildings snaking out along the coastline at either side, hugging the sea. The houses themselves were painted different bright colours, making them seem like rows upon rows of jewels to sailors observing it from a distance, and giving the place a reputation of being a cute, but vibrant, town, from what Alin had been told by passing travellers.

He ambled down the garden path, the hot concrete just as uncomfortable through his thin shoes as the pavement he’d spent the day walking along, and quickly went inside.

His house was small, cramped and cluttered, filled with their few possessions, mainly Alin’s tricks, magic books and things Andrei had collected on their walks along the beach. However, it was cool and dark, and a sharp relief from the burning evening light.

“Andrei?” he called, setting his suitcase down next to the door and wandering into the kitchen to put the shopping away.

“Where were you?!” Andrei ran into the room in tears, head-butting his brother’s thigh and looking up at him in horror, “you were late and I was so worried!”

“Hey it’s alright,” Alin knelt down and pulled his brother into a tight hug, rubbing his back, “I missed the bus and had to walk.”

“But you never miss the bus…” Andrei looked at him suspiciously.

“Well, today I did,” Alin shrugged, “now, where’s my dinner?”

“Erm,” Andrei looked away guiltily, “I didn’t think you were coming back, and I was still hungry, so I ate it…”

Alin closed his eyes and sighed; there was no way he was going to lose his temper at Andrei. But he was so hungry…

“Well, I guess it’s only fair that I get to eat your half of the sweets I bought, right?” Alin pulled the little paper bag out of his pocket and waved them in front of Andrei’s nose. He pulled a tiny, round sweet out of the bag and held it in front of his own mouth.

“No! Please big bro, don’t be mean!” Andrei pouted as he begged, but made no move to take them back; he’d been taught that snatching was wrong. Alin could see he was shaking though, as if he had to physically restrain himself from jumping forward.

“But I’m _ever so hungry_ ,” Alin stuck his tongue out slightly and Andrei stared at him with contempt and outrage. Alin knew he was having way too much fun winding his little brother up, but the kid’s expressions were priceless.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, throwing the sweet back in and handing Andrei the bag, “keep it.”

“Yay!” Andrei dashed off with his dessert, in case Alin changed his mind. The older brother smiled as he watched him go, leaning against the worktop and ignoring the rumbling coming from his stomach. He’d just have to wait until breakfast tomorrow.

 

…

 

Alin watched the blue flame in his hand, azure and teal snaking upwards before turning into indigo smoke. It didn’t burn him, but gave a cooling sensation instead. He just watched it flick out like a lizard’s tongue, weaving together like the hands of a dancer. It was calming to look at.

It was the early hours of the morning now, and Alin knew he should sleep, but couldn’t find the energy to move. It was a bad idea- he had to get up early to get Andrei ready for school, drop him off and head to the market- but Alin just wanted to practice his magic. His real magic.

Although his tricks and routines were simple illusions, Alin had a hidden gift. He could conjure and cast simple spells, bend the elements to suit his every need. He could kill with the click of his fingers, and bring the dead back to life with similar ease. He could make flowers grow and control the weather. He could tear the earth apart and fabric something new in its place.

Well, he _could_ , if he was more powerful.

So far, all Alin could do was move objects around and conjure up some pretty images, though he was working on raising the dead. He had a clear idea of what that spell required, and was positive it would work on small animals that had just died, but people were a different matter. After a certain amount of time, no resurrection spell would bring a body back to life, so Alin knew there was no point in learning it to bring back his parents. But the idea of having the power to _save_ someone in the future excited him. He could protect the people of this town from premature deaths, as long as he got to them in time, and, if he progressed further with his magic, he could make sure that the fishing boats were never caught unaware in storms again. There would be no repeat of what happened with his parents. No one else would have family taken away because of the weather.

_Now if only Alin was powerful enough._

He just needed to practice, like with any other skill. And the harder he worked, the better he would become. Simple.

“Al? Are you still awake?” Alin turned to find a sleepy Andrei standing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes and swaying slightly, “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh, sorry kiddo,” Alin muttered, extinguishing the flame and pulling his mouth into a smile, “I was just practicing and… lost track of time, I guess.”

Andrei nodded, taking a few steps into the room.

“Hey, let me show you something,” Alin beckoned him closer, holding out his hand, palm up.

“Did you learn a new trick?” Andrei broke into a toothy grin, jogging closer and staring at his brother’s hand in interest.

Alin clicked his fingers and puffs of multi-coloured smoke emerged from his fingertips, the blue, red, yellow, green and purple twisting together above his palm until they formed the shape of a butterfly, which fluttered towards a giggling Andrei. The child reached out to touch it, but his fingers went through the smoke and the butterfly disintegrated.

Alin clicked his fingers again, and more smoke emerged, this time forming a dragonfly. It flew at Andrei and nestled in his hair before it crumbled into nothing.

“Can you only do bugs?” he asked.

Alin chuckled, clicking his fingers a final time and producing a smoke bat. Andrei squealed in delight, clapping his hands as he watched the brightly coloured animal fly around the room. The older brother laughed, lifting Andrei up and balancing him on his hip, holding onto him with one arm, whilst holding out the other for the bat to hang from. The little smoke bat landed on his arm, dangling from it, and looked at them both with wide eye before falling apart.

“Aww,” Andrei pouted, looking up at Alin in the hopes that his brother would make more.

“Bed time,” Alin told him, carrying the boy into the hall, up the stairs and into their tiny shared room. There were two bedrooms in their house, but Alin preferred to store his books in the other. Besides, Andrei preferred being close to his brother. Since it was only the two of them left, they tended to stick together.

He walked over to their bed, in the corner under the window, and climbed in, still holding his now sleeping brother close. Andrei stirred slightly as Alin covered them both in blankets, his tiny chest rising and falling as he clung to Alin’s shirt.

Andrei was the only one who knew about Alin’s magic. He didn’t dare tell anyone in town, out of fear of how they would react. It was not only those who would use violence out of fear, but those who would try use him. Alin wanted to make certain that his magic would be strong enough to repel any attempts of manipulation others might use. He would not allow anyone to reduce him to a vessel for their evil plans. As for those who feared magic, he hoped that a few incidents of him proving he was only using magic for good would change their minds.

Remembering he only had a few hours left to sleep, Alin closed his eyes, still listening to his and his brother’s heartbeats.

 

…

 

The day had gone like any other Monday, with Alin performing on his own whilst Andrei was at school. He’d just packed up, having not drawn too much attention, seeing as most people were at work, and was looking forward to seeing his brother after school.

Suitcase in hand, he walked through the market, eyes darting about to catch anyone who tried to pickpocket him. It had happened before, and Alin really didn’t want to lose what little he’d earned that day.

The smell of raw fish hit him and he saw that stranger from yesterday, selling a parcel of fish to a brunette lady, who smiled and put them in the front pocket of her apron. Grinning, Alin wandered over, leaning over her shoulder.

“Say, Elizabeta, is that a mackerel in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

Elizabeta wheeled around, mouth curled into a snarl; “you know damn well, Radacanu, that there will never be a day that I’m pleased to see your ugly mug.”

“Feeling’s mutual, you old witch,” Alin snarled as Elizabeta stormed off.

The fisherman sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “could you please not hiss abuse at my customers. It might make me lose business and I really can’t afford it.”

“Can’t afford much, can you?” Alin leaned against the stall, poking at a fat salmon; “you left me at the bus stop by myself yesterday. I had to walk all the way home.”

“Shouldn’t have wandered off when the bus was coming.”

“I didn’t do it on porpoise! Geddit? Porpoise? Cause they live in water and so do fish…“

“Don’t avoid the question with bad puns.”

“Fine, I was getting sweets for us, remember? And you could’ve asked the bus driver to wait.”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how long you would be,” the fisher dug his nails into the wood of his stall, hoping this annoyance would soon go away so he could get back to work.

“It’s fine,” Alin winked, “you can simply make it up to me by agreeing to go on a date. Is Wednesday evening good for you?”

“Make it up to you? You’re the one who missed the bus, not me. Besides, I don’t owe you anything if you’re gonna stop me from working and harass my customers.”

“In that case,” Alin began, poking the salmon in the eyeball, “I apologise. Let me make it up to you by taking you out on a date.”

“You seem pretty fixed on this date idea,” the stranger raised his eyebrows, “would you even take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Of course I would!” Alin exclaimed; “so what do you say?”

“I… we don’t even know each other’s names!”

“I’m Alin Radacanu,” Alin held out his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. What might your name be?”

“Tsvetan Borisov,” Tsvetan muttered, taking Alin’s hand and shaking it, probably squeezing harder than he should have.

“Nice name. Want to go on a date?”

Instead of an angry reaction, like Alin was expecting, Tsvetan just burst out laughing.

“You’re not going to let it rest, are you?” he nodded, “fine, I’ll agree to a date. You’re a funny little guy, aren’t you?”

“I am?”

“Yes. So where should I meet you?”

“Erm,” Alin scratched his chin, “how about the seafront? Unless you’re bored of that kind of thing.”

“No, no, the seafront’s perfect,” Tsvetan waved a hand, “I finish at five on Wednesday; is that fine with you?”

“It’s perfect,” Alin winked, “I’ll be here at five to pick you up.” He lifted the salmon up and poked his finger in its mouth.

“If you don’t stop playing around with that fish you’ll have to buy it.”

“Would I get a spouse discount?”

“No.”

Alin dropped the fish and it flopped onto the table.

“So,” he tried again, “I guess I should be going then.”

“Please do.”

“Oh, I have to ask: will you be washing between now and Wednesday? Only you really stink of fish.”

“Leave.”

 

…

 

“It’s a lovely evening,” Tsvetan began, walking alongside Alin through the street in the afternoon sun. The vibrant houses acted like a colourful guide as they descended further and further down to the edge of town, and the sea that lay beyond.

“Indeed,” Alin looked around, briefly closing his eyes and letting the cool, salty sea breeze wash over him.

They reached the promenade just as families were beginning to leave. Over at the far end of the beach, fishing boats were returning to the docks with their hauls. Alin stepped onto the shingle and held out a hand for Tsvetan who took it and grinned. He was wearing a different jumper, which was knitted using different brightly coloured wools in thin rows, and a matching hat covered his dark hair. He still stank of fish though. Alin meanwhile, was wrapped up in thin layers of red, black and purple shirts and jumpers, in case it got chilly later.

He’d left Andrei with their neighbours, so the kid wouldn’t get lonely, and so he’d have the place to himself if the date went _really_ well. However, he doubted Tsvetan was the kind of man to jump into bed with someone he hardly knew. Still, Alin wanted to be prepared for the best case scenario.

The sun was beginning to dip in the west and the sea was calm, the pebbly beach dotted with other couples and a few lone walkers admiring the scenery. Alin kept a hold on Tsvetan’s hand, slowly walking with him along the beach and smiling shyly in his direction. To his surprise, he found Tsvetan giving a sheepish grin of his own.

“So,” he tried, “business good for you?”

“Could be better, but not bad, I guess. I’m pretty lucky that the only thing anyone seems to eat here is fish. And you?”

“About as good as it gets when you do street performance for a living.”

“I see. So what sort of things do you do?”

“Oh, this and that,” Alin looked at a crab scuttling across a vein of shale near the promenade, “mostly card tricks with volunteers, some silly magic tricks and illusions. Occasionally I do some stuff with a tightrope, or something more elaborate if my brother is with me. It’s all a bit dull really.”

“Probably more interesting than sitting in a boat waiting for your nets to fill,” Tsvetan commented.

“Less smelly too,” Alin added, grinning smugly.

“I like the smell of fish; it’s refreshing.”

“Don’t you mean re-fishing,” Alin elbowed Tsvetan lightly in the ribs.

“Are you freaking serious?” Tsvetan began walking faster, and Alin had to jog to keep up with him.

“Oh come on! That was comedy gold!”

“More like comedy old,” Tsvetan flashed a grin, slowing back down.

Alin let out a short laugh, and they walked in silence, just listening to the sounds of the waves and laughter of people around them. Shingle and stones crunched under their feet, and the smell of salt, chips and fish hit their noses.

Alin turned around, walking backwards and smiling at Tsvetan all the while.

“You’ll trip,” the other man warned, smiling far too smugly for Alin’s liking.

“Don’t care,” he replied, looking up at the sky. It was still light blue, but took on a greyish tinge. Behind him, streaks of yellow, orange and purple erupted from the setting sun, snaking across the sky. The moon was already out.

“Full moon,” he commented, glancing at Tsvetan, “at least we know you’re not a werewolf.”

“It’s a bit early to tell,” Tsvetan replied, “I thought werewolves transformed at midnight, or at least when it’s dark. But I can assure you I’m human.”

“Ah yes, a fragile mortal,” Alin stuck his tongue out.

“Let me guess,” Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, “this is where you tell me you’re some vampire king who was out to drain me of my blood but then decided I was too cute to die.”

“Not exactly,” Alin giggled nervously. He wondered how the fisherman would react if he found out about Alin’s little paranormal secret. Probably best to not mention it for a while…

“I don’t understand you,” Tsvetan commented.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re… strange. And I understand very little about you.”

“This _is_ the third time we’ve met,” Alin commented, “but yes, I’ve been told before that I’m a lot to take in at once. Think of me as an acquired taste.”

“That makes sense,” Tsvetan nodded, “I’m sure we’ll come to understand each other better in future. But you’re just this big colourful whirlwind of weirdness and loud noises and I don’t know if it’s too much for me to handle…”

“Well, we’ll just have to see if I am,” Alin licked his lips, “but you seem like an odd little bastard yourself.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you’re giving off some serious weird-vibes.”

“Excuse you!” Tsvetan exclaimed, “I’m perfectly normal! Well, there might be one or two things that people find strange… Okay, I’ll be honest, if we can go for a whole relationship without you seriously judging me then it’ll be a miracle.”

“Oh god what have I gotten myself into?” Alin laughed, “I’m sure I won’t be in any position to judge, trust me.”

“That’s good to know… I think.”

“Come on,” Alin nudged him, “the sun’s starting to disappear. I _trout_ we’re going to have much of the day left.”

“Are you going to make fish related puns the whole time?”

“Yes.”

 

…

 

“Bugger,” Tsvetan muttered as they stumbled over the loose stones in the pouring rain, trying to reach the pier and the shelter it would bring. Alin stumbled and Tsvetan dragged him along behind him, keeping a firm grip on the other’s hand and refusing to slow down. They ducked under the wooden planks of the pier and fell into the soft sand under it, in uncontrollable laughter. The squall had caught them by surprise as they walked alone in the dim evening light, cracking jokes and talking about themselves, and now they were soaked.

“I’m glad I’m not out at sea,” Tsvetan admitted, “it doesn’t seem to be making the water dangerous, but it would sure be miserable out there.”

Alin nodded, following Tsvetan’s gaze to the thankfully calm water, only disturbed by the drops of rain assaulting it like tiny bullets.

“I’ve never seen weather this erratic before I came here,” he continued, “it scares me, but I like living here, and don’t want to uproot myself again.”

“I don’t want you to leave either,” Alin muttered, just within Tsvetan’s hearing range, “I’m sure you’ll get used to it though.”

“I hope so.”

“Where _are_ you from?”

“Somewhere else,” Tsvetan smiled childishly at Alin, “far away.”

“I see,” Alin took the opportunity to study Tsvetan closely, noting how the man’s coarse hair stuck out messily, reflecting the moonlight and how his eyes were soft when half-lidded. His lips looked soft too.

Alin found himself drawing closer, lightly leaning against Tsvetan, who rose to Alin’s advances. Their foreheads touched for a long moment, and they giggled silently as their noses bumped before their lips finally met. Tsvetan’s lips were rougher than expected, dry against Alin’s soft ones. Alin bit Tsvetan’s bottom lip lightly, feeling a rush off affection from the gasp it earned. He slid his hand over Tsvetan’s back, trailed a finger over the back of his neck and buried his hand in the man’s thick hair, slipping under his woollen hat. He could feel Tsvetan’s cheeks grow hot, eyes closed as he breathed quickly through his nose, body tense and heart racing. Had he not done this before?

Tsvetan’s arms snaked around Alin’s back, clutching his coat with trembling hands. Alin kept his eyes closed as he listened to the moans and whines of the person beneath him, trying to get Tsvetan to make more of those noises. Before long, however, Tsvetan pulled back, breathing heavily and rapidly.

“That…” he panted, unable to finish his sentence. Alin nodded, holding the other close enough to taste his breath on his tongue. When he finally moved away, he looked at the sky and grinned.

“Rain’s stopped.”

Tsvetan nodded, lying in the sand, wide-eyed with a stupid grin plastered on his face. He looked scarily pale in the moonlight, but thankfully life and energy seemed to radiate from him.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Alin stood up, pulling a shaking Tsvetan to his feet, “we’ll have to do this again sometime, yes?”

Tsvetan could only give a trembling nod in reply.

When he finally gave a verbal response, the pair were silently walking through the winding lanes to get home.

“I guess,” he panted, “you have me _hooked_.”

Alin burst into a fit of giggles, wondering if he had finally found the right person.

 

…

 

“Hey, Tsvet, what did the fish say when he hit a wall? DAM!” Alin gave a roaring laugh at his own joke whilst Tsvetan and Andrei groaned.

“Seriously Al?” Andrei looked at his brother, mortified. Alin and Tsvetan had been on several more dates since their first, and Alin had thought it a good idea to introduce Tsvetan to Andrei. They got along surprisingly well, to Alin’s relief, and now the three of them tended to travel around together, Andrei treating Tsvetan like an older brother, or even a parent.

“Hey, hey,” Alin nudged Tsvetan, grinning from ear to ear, “what kind of music should you listen to whilst fishing?”

“Well, nothing really-“

“Something _catchy_!” Alin laughed silently, tears streaming down his face as he clapped like a seal, doubling over and clutching Tsvetan’s sleeve for support. Tsvetan and Andrei just exchanged exasperated glances.

“Oy…” Alin gasped, struggling to breathe, “where…. Do fish keep their money?”

“I don’t know,” Tsvetan didn’t even look at him, choosing instead to glare straight ahead, “where?”

“Riverbanks!” Alin punched Tsvetan lightly in the arm whilst Andrei let out a frustrated cry.

“You’re such an embarrassing old man!” he cried; “you’re not even funny!”

“Excuse you I’m hilarious!”

“Oh Al…” Tsvetan glanced at him, unsure of how to reply.

An anguished cry cut through Alin’s answer, and the three of them turned to see a young boy kneeling over something red and white, and wailing, head in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Tsvetan asked, stepping forward.

Alin held him back, smile gone; “I’ll handle this.” He turned to Andrei and hissed “get him out of here,” before darting over to the boy.

“Come on Uncle Borisov,” Andrei began, “my big brother’s got everything sorted.”

“No, I have to see what he’s up to,” Tsvetan pushed past Andrei, ignoring the boy’s protests and running over to Alin, making sure to stay back, so the other wouldn’t notice him. He glared at the other’s back; what the hell was this guy up to now?

“Hey kid, what’s wrong?” Alin knelt beside the boy, who, upon closer inspection, was clutching the bloody body of a small white dog to his chest.

“Hanatamago got hit by a truck,” the boy sobbed; “she won’t wake up!”

“Oh, can I see them?”

The child nodded, passing him the battered and mangled puppy. Alin placed Hanatamago in front of him, gently stroking her fur and giving her owner a reassuring smile.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter, sir.”

“Well, Peter, can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, Peter, I’m a magic man, and I can fix your Hanatama… Hanatim… Hana… I can fix your puppy with a spell!”

“Really? Wow!” Peter looked at him, his royal blue eyes wide and hopeful. Alin nodded uncertainly; he’d not been practicing resurrection spells for long, having had no dead things to practice on, but he was sure he knew what to do. Hopefully he had enough strength to pull it off. A spell of this magnitude would be extremely draining, but he had to try; especially now he’d gone and assured Peter he could.

Alin raised his hands, palms hovering over the body as he poured his energy into her, chanting under his breath to heal her broken bones, seal her flesh and restart her heart. He focused on nothing else but the puppy lying in front of him, channelling all his power into his arms and out through his hands. His chanting grew louder as he desperately tried to bring Hanatamago back to life.

A small yip snapped him out of his trance and he looked down, blinking, to find Hanatamago sitting up and wagging her tail, barking happily.

“You did it!” Peter pulled the little puppy into a tight hug, stroking her fur and letting her lick his freckled face, “oh thank you mister!”

“No problem,” Alin swayed slightly, feeling ill and drained; “just… make sure you both stay out of trouble from now on, okay?”

“Right!” Peter stood up, still carrying Hanatamago, and ran off, probably heading home where no more harm could happen.

Alin grinned to himself. _He did it._ He brought something back to life. He was skilled enough to save lives and it filled his chest with warmth and made him feel light-headed, though that could be from how weak he felt. But the tiredness didn’t matter because he was so amazingly euphoric.

“How did you-?”

Alin wheeled round in horror to find Tsvetan staring at him, eyes wide with shock, and the slightest hint of fear. He had his arm wrapped around Andrei, covering the boy’s mouth and ignoring the kicks the younger Radacanu brother gave him.

“Let go… don’t hurt…” Alin could barely find the strength to form a full sentence, staring at Tsvetan in numb horror. There was no way he’d hurt Andrei because of what Alin had done, right?

Andrei bit Tsvetan’s hand, tiny fangs digging into his palm. Tsvetan hissed, dropping the boy, who ran over to his brother, torn between congratulating him on his successful spell and standing between the greatly weakened young man and a potential attacker.

“You just brought that mutt back to life,” Tsvetan commented, staring at Alin closely.

“Yeah?”

“How?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Alin gave a half-hearted grin, “I have magic, _real_ magic. I’m a sorcerer. Aren’t I cool?”

“You… why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was scared!” Alin cried, coughing and nearly keeling over, “didn’t know how you’d react. Didn’t know how anyone would react, so I made sure only Andrei would know. But then I saw that kid there and needed to help him and… I swear on my life that I only use my powers for good. Please don’t tell anyone…”

“Why would I do that?”

“Fear?” Alin barked out a laugh, “I can see you’re scared. People get violent when they’re scared, you know?”

“I’d never…” Tsvetan took a step backwards, “oh god, I must look like a complete bastard, mustn’t I? I swear I’d never tell anyone, or hurt either of you!”

Alin didn’t look convinced, and Tsvetan walked over, kneeling in front of them. Andrei tensed, glaring at Tsvetan and ready to attack, but hesitated. “You two are special to me; I’m not going to throw away the people I consider my new family, okay? I’ll keep your secret!”

“Thank you,” Alin gave a watery smile before collapsing on the pavement.

“Can you carry him for me?” Andrei asked, looking up and grinning sheepishly.

 

….

 

“Are you sure you have to leave _today_?” Alin asked with a whine, opening another cardboard box of his and Andrei’s possessions.

“Yes,” Tsvetan sighed, “I told you I need to restock regularly, and I’ve run out of fresh fish to sell; there’s only that salted stuff left. I need to keep up with the competition!”

“But we’ve just moved in!”

“I know,” Tsvetan sighed, walking over to Alin and wrapping his arms around the leaner man’s waist. After several months of dates and ‘family days out’ and passion and pure happiness, Tsvetan had asked Alin and Andrei to move in with him, and the other two had agreed enthusiastically. At this moment in time, Andrei was upstairs, unpacking his things into his tiny box room, probably bouncing up and down ecstatically as he did do. His spirit had been dampened slightly by that fact that he couldn’t share a bed with Alin and Tsvetan, but had soon decided he was too old for sharing anyway. Now he was pretty excited at the idea of having a room all for himself.

“Please stay,” Alin tried again, “I’ll make it up to you,” he added slyly, kissing Tsvetan’s jaw. The other blushed, placing his hands on Alin’s shoulders and holding him away.

“I can’t,” he didn’t meet Alin’s gaze; “none of the other fishers are going out today so I’ll have the bay to myself. I might even venture further out, since it’s such a beautiful day.”

“There’s a reason the other fishers are staying inside today,” Alin pointed out, eyes drilling into Tsvetan’s and making the other squirm uncomfortably.

“All that talk of a tempest is just silly!” Tsvetan laughed, “there’s no evidence for it, except one old man in town going on about how he can see the future. Honestly, people here can be so gullible.”

“Don’t mock the supernatural,” Alin growled, flicking his partner’s nose, “maybe it’s bullshit, and maybe it’s true. Are you willing to take that chance?”

“To provide for my family, then yes.”

Alin felt a cold dread wash over him; “don’t do this for us. Don’t put yourself in danger for mine and Andrei’s sakes. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself!”

“Oh come on Al, I _trout_ that anything will happen to me,” Tsvetan grinned, nudging Alin and wiggling his eyebrows, but the other didn’t even crack a smile.

“I’ve _haddock_ enough of your crap,” he spat out, angry with himself for throwing a joke back.

Tsvetan laughed, picking up his bag and walking towards the door, “nice to see you’ve stopped _carping_ on about this.”

“I _eely hake_ you right now,” Alin followed, glaring daggers into Tsvetan’s back.

“Bye Andrei!” Tsvetan called, opening the front door, early morning light spilling in. Alin looked past his partner at the sea in the distance, twinkling mockingly at him.

“Bye bye Uncle Tsvet!” Andrei called down from the hall landing.

“Please,” Alin tried one last time, “stop brushing this off with jokes. I’m scared.”

“But if I don’t go then we don’t eat.”

“If you do go then I might,” Alin gulped, “lose you.” He took one of Tsvetan’s hand in his, feeling its coarse, tanned skin and living warmth. He prayed he’d be able to hold those hands again.

“I guess you could say we’re…”

“Tsvetan I will fucking murder you.”

“…stuck between a Rock and a hard Plaice.”

“You know what? Just fucking get out of here,” Alin dropped his hand and pushed him through the door, “maybe you’ll catch a decent sense of humour in your nets.”

“I love you too.”

“On your _pike_ , you bastard.” The pair laughed, Alin closing the door in the other’s face before his smile fell. He leaned against the rough wood, sighing to himself.

“Please come back; I love you.”

 

…

 

“Al? Al! I’m scared,” Andrei whined as he shook his brother awake. Alin opened his eyes blearily looking around in confusion. He found himself sat in a box in the middle of the sitting room, long limbs spilling out and sprawled all over the place.

“What time is it?” Alin murmured, rubbing his eyes; he’d sat down for five minutes whilst packing, he swore. Why was it so dark?

“About eight,” Andrei replied, “uncle Tsvet still isn’t back.”

“That’s strange; he should be home by now. Maybe he ran into an old friend, or is doing a bit of business,” he chuckled nervously, pulling Andrei into a hug and patting his back, “either way, we won’t worry just yet. Now shall we call it a night with the packing? You must be starving by now!”

“Um…” Andrei began, unsure of how to start his sentence, before a flash of lightening cut him off, “you don’t think he’s late because of the storm, do you?”

“No, it can’t be,” Alin whispered, jumping up and bounding over to the window. Outside, the storm was going full force, the howling wind loud and clear even inside the house. The wind battered the houses and trees, and Alin watched in horror as a garden chair was blown past.

“Uncle Tsvet’s still out there,” Andrei wandered over to the window, his tiny hand slipping into his brother’s larger one.

“I know,” Alin rested his forehead against the glass.

“His boat’s stuck at sea.”

“I know.”

“It’s so tiny and fragile. It might sink…”

“I know!” Alin screamed at him, causing Andrei to jump back, face crumpling as he let out a whimper.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” Alin knelt down, pulling his sobbing brother into a tight hug.

“You shouted at me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. But that’s what adults do when they’re terrified.”

“Are you scared of something happening to Uncle Tsvet?”

“No,” Alin buried his face in Andrei’s dark hair, “I’m scared something already has happened to him.”

 

…

 

“Now be a good boy and stay safe inside,” Alin told his brother, pulling on a thick brown coat. It was actually Tsvetan’s coat, but Alin’s one was far too thin for this kind of weather.

Andrei nodded, standing awkwardly in the hall.

“I’ll only be out for an hour or so,” Alin told him, “Tsvet probably just got a bit lost on his way home.”

Andrei nodded again, though he didn’t believe a word of it.

“You have to stay here, okay? We can’t all be running around in the rain.”

“I understand,” Andrei began to climb the stairs, “I’ll be waiting in your bed for you two.”

Alin sighed, opening the door and almost getting blown away by the wind. He pushed himself forward against an almost solid force, pulling the door shut behind him. Clicking his fingers, he produced a tiny, waterproof flame in his hands, and looked around. Everything was pitch-black, but thankfully he knew the route to the seafront. It was also lucky that Tsvetan lived relatively close to the docks.

As Alin stumbled forward, he tried to think of all the scenarios that could’ve happened, and different ways he could react to them. Swimming out into the sea to find him would be suicide, but maybe if he stole a boat…

But Alin couldn’t operate anything bigger than a row boat, and if Tsvetan’s vessel hadn’t survived, what chance would those floating chip-forks have?

Maybe he’d been washed ashore? Then all Alin would have to do was search the beach to find him.

He could’ve made it to shore before the storm hit, and was at this minute taking shelter somewhere. Alin wished he knew how long the tempest had been raging for.

Oh who was he kidding; Tsvetan was probably at the bottom of the ocean by now, just like his parents.

They’d only ever found his mother, bloated and pearl-eyed, floating amongst the rocks and pieces of wood when she was washed ashore. His father had sunk with the ship.

No, he couldn’t lose another loved one to the sea!

Reaching the shore, Alin held the flame up higher, though it did little good. The sea was up to the promenade, spilling over in some places and the wind was stronger here, almost succeeding in picking Alin up and throwing him across the beach. Peering into the gloom, Alin spied a chain of rocks, just to his left, starting as huge piles of boulders on the sand to tiny stepping stones out at sea, just visible in the high tide. He loved climbing those when he was a kid, and there were always contests between friends and classmates to see who dared go the furthest. He’d never let Andrei go out too far when the kid played on them though, as every few years there was always a story in the local papers of someone falling off the rocks and either drowning or getting smashed to bits.

Alin wondered if climbing on them would give him a better view of the bay and he ran over, wiping his flame on his coat to extinguish it. It really wasn’t doing any good anymore.

Scrambling onto the first boulder, Alin spied a bulky shape about a third of the way from the end of the rock chain, caught on the rocks with pieces floating in the sea. It tossed slightly in the wind, more pieces being smashed off every time it hit the rocks. Alin recognised the green, painted hull and now-torn white sails. It was the Zhivka: Tsvetan’s tiny, beloved fishing trawler.

“NO!” he cried, though the wind just ripped the sound from his mouth. Please don’t let him be…

“Tsvetan!” he climbed onto the next rock, struggling not to slip. The thing was covered in seaweed that made his legs hang loose- unable to find a grip- and limpets that cut into his hands. He somehow managed to climb to the top and onto the next rock, after nearly five minutes of flailing about. This was going to take ages.

He hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

 

…

 

Alin dared to believe that the storm was dying down.

He clung to a rock, on all fours with the slab of stone pressing against his stomach, and found that the wind was not as strong as it had been before. It still howled, and ripped at his clothes, but wasn’t cripplingly powerful. He crawled onto the next rock, a larger, flatter thing, and shakily stood up.

Looking over at the wreckage of Tsvetan’s boat, he saw dark pieces of driftwood and fishing equipment scattered in the water around it, most caught in the rocks. Among them, was a human-like figure floating upside down in one of the nets.

“No,” he whispered, “please don’t… tell me it’s not…” Blinking back tears, he jumped onto the next rock, slipping and falling onto his front with a crunch. Winded, he looked up, pulling himself onto his trembling hands and knees and allowing himself a few moments to recover before throwing himself at the next rock. He was freezing, and his fingers felt like they would fall off at any moment, but he couldn’t give up when he was so close. Just a few more rocks…

Another jump, and Alin was certain the storm was passing, thankfully. He almost cried out in relief.

Climbing over the last few rocks, Alin found himself surrounded by wooden planks and boxes, but he could only focus on the body in the net.

There was no doubt about it: Tsvetan had drowned out here, possibly unable to escape the tangles of his own fishing net. As Alin wrapped his freezing fingers around the mesh, using his little remaining strength to drag his partner’s body over to him, he nearly choked on his own sobs. He pulled Tsvetan onto the rock he laid on, turning him over and nearly throwing up at the sight.

Tsvetan was pale, skin rough and bumpy and his face almost unrecognisable from being smashed against the rocks repeatedly. Blood still poured out, covering his face, jumper and even starting to seep onto the stone he was resting on, and a white foam trickled out of his mouth and nose.

“I’m so sorry,” Alin whispered, taking one of Tsvetan’s bloated hands and holding it close to his chest. He wondered if there was still time to save him. Was he even powerful enough? Even if he was at full strength, Alin didn’t know if he could bring a human back to life; all he’d practiced on since the first successful enchantment were a few birds and a rabbit Andrei had brought in one day. He’d brought Peter’s dog back to life several times too, the kid banging on his door every few weeks in a panic because Hanatamago had been run over again. But a whole human was a different story altogether.

Not that he’d let that stop him from trying.

Alin crawled onto his knees, holding his hands out, palms down, and began to chant. This time, he didn’t close his eyes; he needed to see Tsvetan recover for himself. As the words took effect and the energy drained from him, the blood pouring out of Tsvetan stopped, changed its path and was sucked back into his wounds. The foam in his mouth evaporated and the skin and flesh on his face and head began to knit back together. Alin almost keeled over, both from the sight of it and from the sudden rush of exhaustion that came over him, but somehow forced himself to stay upright; he refused to fail. The energy expelled the water from Tsvetan’s lungs and kick-started his heart and brain again.

Alin swore he saw his partner cough weakly before he passed out.

 

…

 

“Come on big bro, get up!” Andrei tugged at Alin’s blankets and he sat up, laughing and pulling his brother into the bed too. Tsvetan stirred beside him turning to face his family and laughing as Andrei plopped down between them and grinned down at him.

“Morning all,” he mumbled, yawning. He looked up at Alin and chuckled; “you have the best bed-head,” he commented.

“Speak for yourself,” Alin shot back, ruffling his partner’s messy hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tsvetan sat up, climbing out of the bed and looking around for his slippers, “should I get started on breakfast?”

“That would be lovely, dear,” Alin sighed, stroking Andrei’s hair. Tsvetan lingered in the doorway, looking at Alin with a noticeable sadness, like he expected the other man to just crumble into pieces in front of him.

“I’ve told you before, I’m fine!” Alin rolled his eyes, “I’m recovered! Back to full strength! Fit as a fucking fiddle! There’s no need to worry.”

“I know, but we almost lost you,” Tsvetan looked away, remembering how he had clung onto an unconscious Alin through the night until a passing boat found them in the early hours of the next morning, and how Alin had spent days in the local hospital, barely alive as his energy slowly returned to him. Tsvetan had barely ate or slept during that time, riddled with guilt and self-loathing. _If only I’d listened,_ he told himself over and over, _then maybe I wouldn’t have nearly killed Alin…_

But a whole month had passed since then, and things were returning to normal. Alin performed in the market, Tsvetan sold the fish he caught, and Andrei went to school.

“Come on,” Alin nudged Andrei affectionately, “let’s help old mackerel-breath in the kitchen.”

“Right!” Andrei scrambled off the bed, taking his brother’s hand and leading him downstairs. They found Tsvetan mixing porridge over the stove, and Alin snuck up behind him, snaking his arms around the other’s waist.

“I must say,” he commented, “your culinary skills are solid _goldfish_.”

Tsvetan snorted, turning around and kissing Alin’s cheek before replying.

“And your puns are still _cod-awful_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to take this opportunity to apologise for, well, everything. And I know I overdid the puns a bit, but I see Romania as being a massive pun-fan.
> 
> Now, this is set in a fictional town that was inspired by several real life places, namely Covent Garden in London, Cobh in Ireland, Watchet in England and Split in Croatia.


End file.
